


Forgotten days

by Redspider



Category: No.6 - Fandom
Genre: Age fluctuation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:12:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redspider/pseuds/Redspider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion can fluctuate his age to his will, making him in one way, immortal, and in another way, alone.</p>
<p>But it's not so bad! It just means he can't spend time with people that much, so he just<br/>lives by himself.</p>
<p>But a certain kid is determined to not let him to isolate himself, and perhaps, it works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten days

The morning air was sweet and thick, and I was relished in the soft breeze that curled the tree top.

I moved a little closer to the edge of the river. The sun was curiously peaking through the cracks of to generally slopped hills tops on the far distance, graciously bathing the earth in a honey light.

I remember everything. Like it was yesterday.

That particular evening, my mother, was dressed in a dainty baby blue sundress, softly floating in the midsummer breeze. After a small stroll through the wild groves of fruit trees, she pointed at the various animals, around us. The importance of them, how important they are to the earth.

I'll never forget it. The red sun sinking like a anchor in the sky. The stars sparkling like needles as the land turned dark. I think at that moment, I learned that belonged to nature, that is was my calling. Everything was so vivid in that moment, and I was awed.

But my mother, oh. She was completely amazing, gosh. I wish I can see her again.  
I haven't seen her in years; it feels like forever.

But even so, my life right now is relatively fine. I mean, I'm doing great! Just a little lonesome though, because I'm living by my self. 

The house I live in is so empty, it almost freaky. Even now, I'm still not used to it, but I manage.

I've lived in it for at least a decade, but somehow, it still catches me off guard in the most least suspecting moments, like when I realize that I'll never see my mother ever again. Or even her soft smile, glistening with serene delight as I watched her bend over in the the bakery, flour-ladened and laughing at my smeared face.

It was felt so fleeting. Like a lukewarm haze had draped itself over the folds and creases of my mind.

Now, I know that no good happen if I keep myself in my desolate thoughts; but I can't help myself. Not that I did it voluntarily, of course; but hey. Life surprises you sometimes.

And that sometimes had been today, shabbly in its awkward gait, into my life.

So there I am, sitting here, in a worn redwood chair just staring. Staring blankly at the threadbare cream walls with a bit of stiff stare.

And as the sun bleed through the room that I sat in, I could feel my bones stir as I got up and shifted a bit slowly to make my bed, fetch my galoshes and worn clothes. Browsing through my closet of the different articles of clothing, and finding one that would fit me or my manual tasks.

Then finally, I washed up shaved, and went outside, my aged body basking in the sun rays breaking through the hills beyond the horizon. 

Gardening is not easy. It's not, say, the most fun or interesting thing one might do to add.  
But honestly, that could mean little else to me for what a typical would consider. I didn't studied agriculture and ecology for nothing, now did I?

The ground was sturdy, laden with sparse patches of sprouting grass that didn't belong, wondered away from its native sibling and grew in the empty black soil I prepared so carefully tilled. And with a sturdy hand, I pulled them off and carefully organized the soil until it was level.

I gather all the of the uprooted grass together in a pile, ignoring an a few aches in side and back, and decided to save it to mix it together with the dead leaves I had collected into a few garbage bags half a season ago to provide a cover for the soil.

When you live in the middle of a forest, there's always an excess of leaves, so I try to put them to good use. There is no one to see me, (which is a good thing to tell you the truth) but it also means no one can really lend you a hand, so I'm doing all my manual work by myself.

After working constantly for a few hours. before I know it, after watering and trimming the hedges in the back, I'm done. The Sun still wobbling in the air well before it's zenith. Forest still shady and dark, and cool in the morning breeze.

It's times like this that makes me remember every single day that I'm here, barely noticeable, but thriving none the less, and I've never stopped had a weird mix of feelings about it. Especially today of all days. 

And perhaps, because i finished earlier than usual, treat myself to a special chore that particularly like doing.

After putting away the garden equipment, bathing, and putting on thicker clothes, I decided to visit town. Just this once, to pick up some bread, seeds, vegetables, and a few other things for my home out in the forest.

So after I had prepared for the trip outside, I also decided to do something that I hadn't tried in a while.

I trotted down into the road, and walked behind multiple trees, one at which, I fluctuated my age to look out looking like a young man. 17? 19? Something like that, I don't really think about it too hard.

And everything in my body becomes lighter, more supple and youthful,but also a lot more active; as my heart-rate other body function speed up to an alarming rate. It's not that surprising that this happened considering that haven't done it in a while, and that bodies typically don't jump start like a battery, so I crouch down to catch my breath. It's been so long since I've done this, I've have forgotten what it had felt like; and I chuckled a bit before continuing.

After almost a half an hour down the path, taking a hidden short cut in the bush clearing, exhaustion is not the word I'm looking for to describe my state of mind.I'm covered in a bit of sweat, dirt, and burrs, and even a few bug bites until I make it to the end of the path. And lo and behold, there it is.

Lost town. I found you.


End file.
